Music Major Gothic
-The metronome keeps going, at its eternal, pulsing speed. You turned it off 3 days ago. It slowly drives you mad.
-You hear quiet sobbing from beyond the wall of your practice room. You go to check on your comrade, but the room beside you is empty. You realize it was you that was sobbing.
-The tuner is set to A = 460. You are unsure how, as your tuner does not have a setting that high.
-Your professor hands you your math midterm. You are in music theory. You do not understand.
-How long have you been in this practice room? You are uncertain. There are no windows and time doesn’t seem to pass here. You emerge to discover that it’s 2AM and you missed your graduation.
-Your private instructor tells you to buy a piece. You scour the internet, but you cannot find it. You find one copy, for $600, in “poor” condition. There are no recordings of it. It is not on imslp.
-The practice room clock has never worked in your years here, but it somehow always reads a different time.
-You suddenly forget how to play your instrument. Your fingers fumble on the foreign object. You’ve never played this piece before. Juries are tomorrow.
-The practice rooms are all full. You wait for hours, but no one comes out. You knock on the door, you just want to practice. Something hisses at you. You do not try again.
-There are intruders in the music building. They are unwelcome. They know this, and hurry quickly in and out of their music appreciation gen ed class. They do not make eye contact. You hate them, but you do not understand why.
-You see a familiar face in the hallway. You do not remember their name, but you do remember what instrument they play. They’ve been attending this school for seven years and you’re certain they graduated…..twice
-Your instrument whispers to you while you sleep. You haven’t been practicing enough. The voice is threatening, demanding. You’ve lost 2 roommates because of it. They never informed you of this. Your 3rd one trembles.
-You reach for a pencil during class only to discover that you have none left. You’ve lost the last one. Classes started three days ago. You weep softly.
-Your ensemble director keeps conducting. He never speaks. You sneak out when the class ends. He doesn’t stop. What is he conducting, anyway? It’s syllabus day.